A CROWN UPON HER HEAD
…in the
future there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the
righteous Judge, will award to me on that day; and not only to me, but also to
all who have loved His appearing. 2 Timothy 4:8 (NASB)
“…there is
one crown in heaven which the angel Gabriel could not wear, it will fit no head
but mine.” Charles H. Spurgeon
A shadowed figure hurried
through the darkness as rain poured relentlessly on the sleeping village.
Thunder rumbled overhead as the figure hurried through the muddy streets until
this stealthy one came to a plain stone house as cold in appearance as the
storm clad night. Climbing the steps the shrouded figure stopped and laid a
bundle at the door. Lightning flashed and for a moment the figure hesitated but
then darted away, disappearing into the darkness leaving the bundle behind in
the rain.
A cold north wind swept
down from the surrounding mountains, whipping through a meadow that lay at the
edge of the wood. A few brave wildflowers remained from the Indian summer and
they ducked and swayed but to no avail. The bitter wind tore the blooms away
leaving the stems empty as it continued on toward the stone house where two
maple trees stood like towering sentries on either side of the stone steps. Their
trunks gnarled with age, their branches like great arms spread over the porch
as though trying to give shelter to the bundle so carelessly abandoned there. The
wind swirled about the trunks and then climbed into the leafy boughs sending a
swirling cascade of fall colors to the ground below. The wind lifted its
mournful cry as it picked up the rain and sent it reeling in riotous circles,
causing it to pound against the stone house as though trying to wake the
inhabitants.
The bundle lay exposed as
rivulets ran down its sides and the wind tore at the fabric until a corner came
loose and fell to one side. At that moment the bundle began to move and a tiny
arm reached out from beneath the now drenched covering, waving frantically in
the cold. Thunder erupted like canon fire, followed immediately by jagged bolts
of lightning across the sky and a baby’s cry rose up from its rain soaked bed,
the wind seeming to press the infant’s cries against the massive door creating
a haunting sound that traveled through the heavy door, into the ornate foyer,
past the front parlor and up the grand stairway.
The stairway was wide and
covered with a thick carpet. The carved mahogany banister added grace to the
curving stairway that wound its way to the second floor. At the top of the
stairs was a large sitting room, with a vast stone fireplace where embers still
glowed from a fire all but gone out. A sofa with walnut trim and claw feet
stood next to a Queen Ann chair with a soft floral print that added softness to
the well appointed room. To the left of the chair stood closed double doors in
a rich cream color. A wide hallway lay at the opposite end of the room where a
vintage wooden desk and chair sat beneath an octagonal shaped window and next
to that a second stairway to the third floor.
It was a narrow stairway
made of stone. It lacked any soft carpet to cushion the climb and on arriving at
the top one was met by a large windowless room with well-worn furnishings. A
smaller version of the stone fireplace on the second floor took up one wall,
with a floor to ceiling mahogany bookcase on the opposite wall. Next to the
bookcase a series of pegs were attached to the wall from which hung jackets and
caps, with boots of varying sizes lined up neatly on the floor below them. The room
led to a hallway with three doors on one side and two on the other. They stood
in closed silence. At the opposite end of the room was an alcove framed in
walnut. Stepping into the alcove one found another octagonal window and to the
right of that light shone softly from beneath a single walnut door.
The room on the other side
of the door was simple but cheerful. A fire burned in a small stone fireplace
opposite a four-poster bed. An overstuffed chair sat in the corner, with a
woolen throw draped over one arm. Pictures of loved ones from an age gone by
were tucked on the mantelpiece. A simple, yet lovely Victorian table stood next
to the bed where an oil lamp burned, giving light to the cozy room. On the bed
against pillows housed in cases edged with vintage lace a woman sat reading. She
wore a nightcap on her head from which grey hair had escaped unnoticed, and
small round glasses sat at the end of her nose as she read.
Grandma Grace, or GG as the
children called her, paused from her reading, tilting her head to one side to
listen. The sound of the storm was deafening as she swung her legs over the
side of the bed and stuffed her feet into her slippers and quickly pulled on
her robe before stopping at the window to peer out into the night. The wind
cried mournfully as the rain beat against the window, but there was something
else—another cry all but swallowed by the storm.
GG picked up the oil lamp
from the bedside table and hurried into the dark alcove toward the stairs. As she
reached the grand staircase that wound down toward the first floor she heard
the cry more clearly. She quickened her pace, her heart beating frantically in
her chest with an urgency to reach the front door. She knew as she reached the
bottom stair that she had taken too long.
A chill reached her, sending a shiver through her body. She hurried
along the corridor, pausing for a moment as movement in the parlor caught her
eye. The floor length curtains that hung from the large windows stirred, filling
her with dread. She was too late.
The lamplight caused long
shadows to creep along the hallway as she made her way toward the main entrance.
She rounded the corner and came to a stop as what she had feared came into
view. A woman stood in the doorway; her back turned
toward GG, giving her time to think before she spoke. “What is it, Ms Lila?” She asked in the calmest voice she could
summon. Hearing her name the woman slowly turned, her nightdress billowed as a
strong gust of wind pushed its way into the large entry, causing the flame to
flicker wildly in the oil lamp GG held. She tried not to let the other woman
see that her hand was shaking.
“Someone has left their
garbage on the porch. I’ll take care of it. You go back to bed Grace.”
The baby’s cry had turned
hoarse and Grace took a sideways step in an effort to see the little one crying
for help with what little strength was left.
“Why don’t you let me take
care of it, Ms Lila? After all you’ve been just that ill and getting yourself a
good soaking won’t do you any good at all.”
Lila had already turned
away, bending to pick up the squalling infant.
GG took a few steps forward
but Lila heard her and spun around, holding the baby by one arm in her claw
like grasp. The words she spoke dripping with contempt.
“I’m taking this trash down
to the river and will let the current do its work. Go back to bed and leave me
to it.”
GG’s mind raced as she
followed Lila and the screaming baby girl into the storm.
“Well now, just look at
those long fingers. I’ve never seen such long fingers on a newborn. I bet she
could be the finest seamstress Stone Valley has ever seen. She’s small, it’s true, but it takes small
hands to sew fine stitches—the kind that will make you the envy of all. You
could hire her out and turn a nice profit.”
Lila stopped abruptly,
narrowing her eyes as she considered GG’s words. Lila was already shivering and
they weren’t even half way to the riverbank. With hard eyes and an even harder
heart she looked down as though examining the child’s hands and then still holding
the babe by one arm thrust her toward GG.
“Go on then. Take it. I
expect not to have to lay eyes on it again until it is made useful. Do I make
myself understood?”
“Yes ma’am,” GG replied as
waves of relief washed over her. She tucked the wee baby inside of her robe and
followed Lila up the stone steps and into the stone house and closed the door.
A short time later GG stood
in the kitchen heating milk as she held the freshly bathed infant in the crook
of her arm. She hummed softly as she poured the milk into a baby bottle she’d
managed to find in a trunk that belonged to her mother, which she kept hidden
beneath her bed. She tested the temperature against her wrist and satisfied it
was just right she headed to her room tucked on the third floor of Stone House.
She climbed the stairs
thinking about this old house more than a century old. Stone House was touted
as an orphanage of sorts. But truth-be-told it was more of a work farm for
unwanted children. Ms. Lila’s great granddaddy had started it all when he found
an abandoned toddler on the porch. He and his wife took the child in and loved
him like their very own. Times were hard and it didn’t take long for the word
to spread that old man Stone and his wife were taking in the unwanted. And so
the family at Stone House grew.
Ms. Lila Stone was nothing
like her family. She wasn’t interested in taking in abandoned children to love.
No, she was only interested in how much money they could bring to Stone House.
Struggling families made backroom deals with Ms. Lila and she bought the
strongest or most gifted, relieving stretched families from a mouth to feed in
the process.
Ms. Lila never took in
babies. They were of no use, she would say. A few times babies did appear at
Stone House, but disappeared without a trace just as quickly. There was talk
that the river, which was called the river of death, was the final resting
place for a number of infants who had the misfortune of being left on the steps
of Stone House. Likewise children who
didn’t produce or turn a profit vanished though where they went no one seemed
to know.
Stone House was full of
dark secrets. GG’s mother, grandmother and great grandmother had all worked at
Stone House. She did her best to provide an atmosphere of safety and love for
the children who found themselves abandoned to life within these walls. As long
as she had breath she would tell them about the One to whom she belonged. He
was the sustainer of her soul and she found joy that had nothing to do with
life at Stone House.
GG closed the door of her
room, and carried the baby to the large overstuffed chair in the corner by the
fireplace. She sat down and studied the little one she held in her arms as she
worked to help her drink from the bottle. She had auburn curly hair that framed
her small face. Her eyes were brightest blue. Everything about her was
delicate. As she held her, something stirred within her heart, a deep love and
a desire to protect this tiny life. A suckling sound caught her attention and she
couldn’t help but smile as the baby began to eat, and then the tiny infant
reached up and wrapped her small fingers around GG’s little finger and right
around her heart.
“Oh precious girl,” she
whispered, “I hope you grow strong and have something of worth to bring to Ms.
Lila. You’ve got to work hard and earn your keep. Else, well…” She wiped a tear
from her cheek and then whispered, “I hope you don’t die here. And I hope…” Her
voice trailed off and she grew quiet in the soft glow of the fire as she
studied the frail form that lay in her arms. “Hope,” she repeated. “That’s a fine
name. Hope.” GG sang tender songs of
comfort and held Hope all night as she figured that baby needed lots of hugging
and holding to make up for such a rough start. Then, settling deeper into the
chair, she told Hope about the King who was good and loving and very powerful.
She talked far into the night about the King and his Son. Stories about the
King were forbidden at Stone House, but GG suddenly felt they needed telling to
this small life sleeping against her. Sometime in the predawn hours, sleep came,
carrying dreams of the future—a future filled with Hope.
Six years later…
“Yes. Tell us about the
King,” the children said in whispered unison. Their faces were clean, their
hair freshly combed and they sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the
fire, their eyes aglow with anticipation as GG leaned forward in her chair, her
own eyes shone with a light not of her own making.
“Well,” she began, “the
King lives on the grandest estate you ever did see. The trees are covered with
sweet fruit, and when the King walks by the trees clap their hands for joy.”
The children giggled softly at the thought of clapping trees. GG continued
telling them about the King. How his voice commanded the seas and his laughter
sounded like waterfalls. He was good. He was just. He was gentle. He was love.
“One day,” she continued…at
that very moment Ms. Lila appeared in the parlor. She stood threateningly, her
eyes narrowed, her lips curled back from her teeth as she hissed, “Get to bed
this instant!” When no one moved, she pointed a boney finger in the direction
of the staircase and screeched, “NOW!” The children scurried up the stairs.
Lila stood with her head cocked to one side listening, and grunted in
satisfaction when she heard the muffled sound of doors closing on the third
floor. Ms. Lila turned an icy stare in GG’s direction, before turning on her
heel with her nose in the air and headed in the direction of her room, her
nightdress flowing behind her.
GG let out a breath of
relief as the curtains rustled and a girl of six-years with large blue eyes and
long auburn curls came out from her hiding place.
“Is she gone?” she asked;
her eyes wide with fear.
“Yes, Hope. She’s gone,” GG
replied with a reassuring smile. “Off to bed with you now,” she said, bending
down to kiss the top of the small girl’s head and gently pointing her in the
direction of the stairs. Hope looked up into GG’s eyes as she said, “Oh please
tell me a little more about the King and his Son before I go to sleep.” How
could Grandma Grace deny such a request, so she lifted Hope in her arms and as
she carried her up the stairs she spoke in whispered tones of the King and His
Son.
“The King’s Son has many
names.”
“Oh,” Hope said, her eyes
fixed on GG’s face as though concentrating extra hard so as not to miss the
smallest detail.
“One of His names is Strong
Tower.”
Hope’s eyes got very large
as she thought about that name. She thought about the many times she had
climbed the White Oak tree. She would imagine the branches reached down and
lifted her to a place of safety, high above all the troubles of Stone House.
Was the Son like that? Was He a place of safety?
As GG tucked Hope into bed, she kissed her
cheek and whispered, “He is also called Ancient of Days.”
Hope nestled deeper under
the covers as GG blew out the oil lamp and left the room, pulling the door
quietly closed behind her. Hope fell
asleep with a deep longing in her little girl heart—a longing to know the Ancient
of Days.
The day was bright and a
soft breeze, and green fields, beckoned the children to come and run. It was
Sunday and the children had the entire day to fish in the stream or run through
the meadow or climb trees. Ms. Lila complained loudly every week, but even she
had to admit that the children performed better with a day off, so she relented
albeit reluctantly.
The children crossed the
meadow, which was dotted with wildflowers and then they ran to the top of the
hill and flopped down in the tall grass, sprawled in the sun.
“Whatcha doin’?” William
asked, looking down at Hope. William was a tall boy with freckles on his nose
and callouses on his hands from long hours spent working in the fields. He sat
down next to Hope and studied the fabric she held in her hands.
Hope smiled as she pulled
the needle through the backside of the soft material. “I’m practicing my
stitches,” she said.
“What for?” Lucy asked.
“I know why,” Charles said
with a bit of a jeer in his tone.
“Why?” The others asked in
unison.
“She thinks if she is good
enough maybe she can be seamstress to the King,” Robert finished with a bow.
Lucy pointed in the
distance and said mockingly, “I see it. I see the King’s grand estate.”
“You can’t see the King’s
house from here,” Hope said, unbothered by their teasing.
“You don’t really believe
all those stories about a King and his Son. Do you?” Charles asked.
“I don’t believe them!”
Lucy said with certainty. Then she puckered her brow as she quickly added, “But
I do like hearing the stories.”
“I believe it,” William
said steadily as the others ran off to play. William put a hand on her shoulder
as he said, “Don’t let them bother you. They don’t know any better, Hope.” She
smiled at him as he stood and grabbed his fishing pole and headed to the stream
leaving Hope to think about the King, his Son and trees that clapped for joy.
A few days later Hope was
walking back to Stone House after delivering bed linens she had hemmed for a
couple who owned Stone Village Inn. Hope still beamed from the praise they had poured
out on her for the fine stitches she had used. At six years of age Hope showed
great promise as a seamstress. The coins made a jingling sound inside the coin
purse she carried over her shoulder. Ms. Lila had given it to her that very
morning, along with a stern warning as to what would happen should she lose the
payment on her way home.
Leaving the village road,
she crossed the meadow and then decided to walk along the edge of the woods
where a brook played over smooth stones and wildflowers of every hue danced and
swayed in the spring breeze. She crossed the stone bridge and spied a marsh
wren darting in and out of the reeds. She slipped off her shoes and sat down in
the tall grass to watch. It was there at the brook’s edge that she met Him for
the first time.
“Hullo.”
Hope jumped a bit, not
knowing anyone was there. She turned to see an elderly man who must have been
at least thirty-years if a day. Not wishing to be rude, she answered, “hullo,”
accompanied by a smile. GG taught her to always smile. She said that even storm
clouds have to get out of the way of a sunny disposition.
Hope used her arm to shade
her eyes so she could see him better. There was nothing particularly
captivating in his appearance. He was, well, very ordinary. He appeared to have
been working as he had sweat on his brow and dirt on his clothing. He sat down
on a fallen log at the brook’s edge and dipped his hands in the water and used
them to wipe the sweat from his face. He looked thirsty, so she offered him a
drink of water from the canteen GG had given her for the walk to the village.
He took a long drink, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before handing
the canteen back to her with a smile and a thank you.
“I haven’t seen you here
before,” she said.
“I’ve only just arrived
after being gone for quite some time,” He replied.
“Where have you been?”
“I came from my Father’s
estate.”
“Why?”
He smiled at her six-year-old
straight forwardness as He answered, “My Father sent me.”
Her eyebrows crinkled in
the center and she bit her lip as she thought about what He said. This seemed
familiar somehow. She rested her chin in her hand and asked, “Who’s your Father?”
“My Father is the King,” He
said gently and without any hint of pride.
Hope sat up straight then
and turned so she could study Him more closely. “You don’t look like a King’s
Son. I didn’t think a King’s Son would have dirt on his hands and clothes.”
His eyes danced as He
replied, “Oh I like working with my hands, and sometimes being about my Father’s
business requires getting dirty.”
“Do you have a crown?” Hope
inquired.
“Yes, I do.”
“Where is it? Can I see it?
I’ve never seen a crown before.”
“It isn’t here. I didn’t
bring anything with me. Coming here required leaving everything behind.”
“Even your crown?”
He laughed softly as He nodded
and said, “Yes, Hope. Even my crown.”
Hope looked at Him in
wonder. GG had told her so much about Him that she felt she knew Him, but it
was nothing like sitting here talking with Him herself. But how had He known her
name? She was certain she had not told Him, but He had called her Hope. She
smiled at the realization that He knew her before she’d even met Him. GG had
talked of such things.
“You’d best be heading
home,” He said as He took her small hand in His rough calloused one, helping
her to her feet.
She reluctantly put her
shoes on and then asked if she could come visit Him again and where was He
staying so she would know where to find Him.
“You won’t have any trouble
finding me, Hope. Those who look for me will always find me.”
She smiled and then
realizing she didn’t know His name she shielded her eyes from the sun as she
looked up into His face. But before she could put words to her question, He
said, “I am the Prince of Peace.” Hope
repeated His name as though it was a great treasure and she tucked it into her
heart, turned and skipped off into the meadow, disappearing amongst the
wildflowers. She could hardly wait to tell GG that she had met the King’s Son.
She wondered if GG knew His name was Prince of Peace.
Hope reeled backwards
falling and nearly striking her head against the stone fireplace. The blow left
a red hand imprint across her cheek and her eyes stung with tears.
“There is to be no talk of
the King or of His imaginary Son,” Ms. Lila said.
“B-b-but He’s not
imaginary. I met Him. I talked with Him. He drank from my canteen. He knows my
name,” she finished as tears escaped down her cheeks.
Ms. Lila struck Hope’s face
again. The blow pressed her lip into her teeth causing blood to stream down her
chin. Ms. Lila hit her again, the blow landing against the tender skin around
her right eye and she could feel blood trickle down her cheek and there was an
odd ringing in her ears and the room suddenly seemed to be at an odd angle.
“Get it out of here!” Ms.
Lila screeched as GG entered the room. GG had heard the commotion all the way from
the hen house and had hurried to see what was wrong.
GG could see Hope was
becoming unsteady on her feet, so quickly lifting her up in her arms she
hurried from the room, studying Hope’s small face, which was rapidly swelling
and turning ugly shades of purple. Anger burned in GG’s chest and tears stung
her eyes as she carried Hope up two flights of stairs. She decided to take Hope
to her own room. GG gently laid her on the four-poster bed, before disappearing
for a few minutes and returned with a basin of warm water and a towel. Sitting
on the edge of the bed, GG proceeded to wash the wounds and soothe the small
girl as she stirred and whimpered.
“I did meet Him,” Hope
lisped through swollen lips.
“I know,” GG said. She was
quiet for a moment as though weighing carefully what she was about to say. “Knowing
Him costs everything,” she said so softly that Hope wasn’t sure she had heard
her right. GG began to sing a song about the King and His garden where He
lived, and how one day those who were His would be there with Him always.
Hope lay still listening to
GG’s song. The words were balm to her battered heart and she drifted into an
exhausted sleep where she dreamed of walking in the King’s garden. She wasn’t
sure how she knew it was the King’s garden, she just knew. There was a fountain
coming right up out of the ground and the water seemed alive, and the sound it
made was like singing. All around the fountain were beautiful flowers. Their
fragrance was such that Hope buried her face in the nearest blooms, their
petals soft against her skin. It was then she heard familiar laughter that
sounded like many waterfalls. She opened her eyes to find Prince of Peace
waiting on the garden path; His arms outstretched as He knelt down and beckoned
her come. She ran into His embrace as He said, “Welcome home, little one!
Welcome home!”
Pain shot through her face
as she slowly opened her eyes. She touched her swollen lips as tears slid down
her cheeks. Her heart felt heavy as she realized the singing waterfall, and the
King’s beautiful garden had been a dream and she was still at Stone House. She
lay back in the darkness and thought about the dream, it had seemed so real and
she tucked it away to ponder later.
GG was careful to keep Hope
out of Ms. Lila’s path, and after several days Ms. Lila’s anger finally cooled and
she summoned Hope to the parlor. Hope entered with her eyes to the floor and
stood with her hands folded behind her back.
“Look at me when I’m
speaking to you,” Ms. Lila spat.
Hope lifted her gaze, her
right eye still bruised and swollen.
“I need you to go to the
Thomas’s. They have requested your services. Hurry there and straight back.”
Hope was elated at the
prospect of visiting the bakery and starting a new sewing project.
GG gave her the coin purse
and the canteen of water and a cookie fresh from the oven. GG lifted Hope’s
chin so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. They didn’t need to
speak; they knew what the other was thinking. They both knew the Son of the
King. All the Ms. Lila’s in the world could not change that. GG hugged her
tight and sent her out the door and down the stone steps.
Hope took the village road
straight to the bakery. She walked in the door, the aroma of fresh baked bread
making her mouth water and her stomach rumble.
Mr. Thomas called for his
wife when he saw Hope’s bruised face. Anger flashed in his eyes, but he curbed
his tongue. Mrs. Thomas brought a cream that felt cool against her bruises. She
smiled and thanked them for their kindness. Mrs. Thomas led her to the dining
table and gave her a fresh piece of bread and another piece for later. “Now,
Hope, that’s just for you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she said.
They longed to keep Hope
with them, but they knew that would not be wise, as both Hope and Grace were
much needed within the hard walls of Stone House. So they gave her the fabric
they needed to have sewn, along with an advance of the fee, and reluctantly
sent her on her way.
Hope held the fabric carefully
in her arms and started back to Stone House. She turned off the village road
and headed toward the meadow and the brook in hope of seeing Prince of Peace.
She arrived at the fallen log where they had visited before but He wasn’t
there. She waited a moment and then with disappointment in her heart she walked
across the bridge and into the meadow toward Stone House. Her mind was filled
with troubled questions as she walked.
Hadn’t He said that if she looked for Him she would find Him? Where was
He then?
As Hope reached the edge of
the meadow and started walking down the hill by way of a path that wound down
to the house, something caught her eye. Dust rose from the field where William
and some of the other boys were plowing in preparation for planting corn. There
were supposed to be eight boys, but she counted nine. Hope couldn’t read, but
she had been taught to count since a seamstress must be able to count stitches.
Thinking she may have made a mistake, she stood still and counted again. There
were definitely nine working in the field. Curious, she headed in their
direction carefully shifting the fabric in her arms as she went.
She reached the field, her
eyes squinting in the bright sun as she tried to see where the workers were,
but they were on the other side of the plow equipment and she wasn’t able to
see anything but their feet. She plodded through the field, her feet sinking
into the deep furrows of freshly plowed earth. They were in the process of
switching out plow horses as the one that had been working was standing off to
the side, munching hay, his coat glistening in the sunlight. She began to walk
behind him, but remembering William’s cautioning on more than one occasion that
she should never walk behind the large animals as they were sometimes easily
spooked and may kick her with their huge hooves, she walked around the other
direction until the workers came into view.
A smile touched the corners
of her mouth and her eyes lit up as she saw Him. The King’s Son was bent down
helping the boys to fit the plow to the horse’s harness and He smiled when He saw
her hurrying over to greet Him.
Turning her head sideways
so she could see Him better, she bent down beside the large animal, “Hullo.”
“Hullo to you,” He said.
She was quiet a moment and
He continued working while she put her earlier wonderings into words. “I was
looking for you at the brook a while ago but I couldn’t find you there.”
“Oh?”
“Well,” she continued,
“it’s just that you said if I looked for you I would find you. But I didn’t
find you.”
The harness snapped into
place and He stood and walked over to where Hope was standing and knelt down so
they were eye to eye. His eyes twinkled
with a hint of mischief as He said, “Tell me, little one, how is it that we are
having this chat if you didn’t find me?” Her eyebrows scrunched together as she
thought hard about that. He gently said, “You will find me in the midst of your
every day.”
“Oh,” was all she could
manage to say, as she looked at Him in wide-eyed wonder.
Prince of Peace brushed the
hair from her eyes, His fingers touching the tender place around her eye, where
Mrs. Thomas had so kindly applied ointment earlier. Hope wasn’t sure how, but
at His touch the hurt went away. She smiled and He smiled back as He stood.
“What’s that you are
holding?” He asked.
Hope had forgotten all
about the fabric she had been given by the Thomas’s. “The baker and his wife
asked me to hem this fabric for a new tablecloth for their dining room. I
promised I would have it finished and back to them by tomorrow.”
“The Thomas’s make the best
bread in the village and Mr. Thomas can spin quite a tale if you’ve a mind to
sit a while and listen.”
“You know them?” Hope
asked.
His laughter filled the air
and Hope couldn’t help but laugh too. “Yes, I know the Thomas’s. And they know
Me,” He said, turning back to the work at hand. “You’d best get started on that
table covering if you are to have it for them by tomorrow. It’s important to
keep your promises. I’m sure Mrs. Thomas will be pleased. You do nice work,
Hope.” He placed the plow’s straps over
His shoulders and around His waist and grabbing hold of the plow handles, He
uttered a command and the horse moved forward with Him guiding it along in a
straight line. Hope headed back across the field in the direction of the house
still beaming from the praise He had given her work.
She waved hello to GG who
was heading in the direction of the field with a basket of sandwiches over one
arm and a pitcher of cold lemonade in the other. “Hope, don’t you want to come
have lunch?” she asked as the small girl skipped by her.
Hope shook her head, as she
replied, “No. I need to get started on the tablecloth for the Thomas’s. It’s
important to keep your promises, you know.”
“Yes. I suppose it is at
that,” GG replied with a broad smile. “I’ll save you a sandwich,” she called as
Hope skipped happily on toward Stone House, with the now slightly wrinkled
fabric fluttering over one arm as she went.
The next morning GG showed
Hope how to press the wrinkles out of fabric with the hot iron. In no time at
all, the tablecloth was pressed and ready to be delivered to the bakery. Ms.
Lila inspected her work and with a grunt she handed Hope the coin purse,
looking down her pointed nose, narrowing her eyes to make clear her unspoken
warning. Hope felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck as she took the
coin purse from Ms. Lila’s hand and headed for the entry door.
She set the tablecloth on
the buffet table that stood along the wall near the door while she put the
strap of the coin purse over her neck, leaving her arms free to carry the newly
hemmed and pressed tablecloth to the village. She stood quietly trying to figure out how
best to pick up the tablecloth and open the heavy door and close it again
without wrinkling her work. It was then, as she stood contemplating her options
that GG arrived with Robert and Charles.
“We’re going with you,”
Robert announced and Charles nodded in agreement. Hope gave a pleading look in
GG’s direction only to have her nod her head and smile in her ever-patient way.
She handed Robert the shopping list, along with some money. “No bickering, boys
and take care of Hope,” she directed, showing them her serious face, but her
eyes gave away that inside she was laughing and with that she opened the door,
placed the tablecloth carefully over Hope’s outstretched arms, and sent the
three on their way closing the door behind them.
The boys jumped off the top
step to see who could go the furthest and then spent the first ten minutes of
the journey arguing about it and punching and shoving each other in a brotherly
sort of way along the village road. Hope followed along behind wondering why
boys had to behave so strangely. Then as though they suddenly remembered GG’s charge
to watch over her, they slowed their pace, allowing her to catch up to them.
“Did you see how that
stranger plowed the field yesterday?” Robert asked.
Charles nodded in agreement
and added, “He handled that horse by talking to her. Old Mary Bell never plows
a straight line, but she sure did for Him. He didn’t yell at her or nothin’.”
“Nothing,” Robert
corrected. “I bet He would have had that field plowed and planted in one day if
you know who hadn’t come along.”
“Who came along?” Hope
asked.
“Who do you think?” Charles
asked. “It were Ms. Lila.”
“Was,” Robert corrected
again. “Ms. Lila came out to the field to check the progress of the planting
and she was mad as a hornet when she saw someone other than William behind the
plow. He was with Toby, Eric, Seth, Steven, Andrew, and me and Charles
following the plow and dropping seed in the furrows and then covering them. She
gave William what for and sent the man away.”
“But why did she do that?”
Hope asked, horrified by the treatment of her friend. And then she stopped
walking as she stated, “And He’s not a stranger!”
“We don’t know him. So that
makes him a stranger,” Robert said.
“I know Him.”
Charles moved in so close
that Hope could feel his breath on her face as he pointed a finger in her face and
asked, “Oh yeah? If you know him then what’s his name?”
“Prince of Peace,” Hope
said.
“Prince of what?” Charles
said.
“Prince of Peace. He’s the
Son of the King.”
“What?” Both boys said in
unison.
“You know. Ancient of Days.
The King’s Son,” Hope finished as she wondered silently how it could be
possible for them not to know the King or His Son. Weren’t they paying
attention when GG told them about the King and His Son?
The boys stood looking at
each other and then Charles began laughing. “The King? Oh, that’s right. You
are going to be seamstress to the King.” He reached out and grabbed the
tablecloth from her arms and unfurled it, wrapping it around his shoulders like
a royal robe. He paraded about, the fabric dragging through the dirt behind him.
Hope ran after him trying to get the fabric away from him. But he kept darting
away and turning this way and that, avoiding her grasp, until his foot came
down on the material and it tore. Hope stood in disbelief as Charles let the
material fall from his shoulders in a heap in the dust.
Hope knelt on the ground,
cradling the ruined fabric in her arms, tears stinging her eyes. She lifted her
gaze to Robert’s, pleading without words for his help.
“Charles, what have you
done?” Robert asked in disbelief.
Dark clouds that had dotted
the horizon only a short time earlier had begun to move in overhead, casting
shadows across the valley. The wind stirred through the trees. A storm was
coming.
Charles kicked dirt onto
the already ruined fabric as he said, “Ms. Lila’s going to put you in the River
of Death for sure. You don’t belong here anyhow,” Charles taunted.
“What do you mean?” Hope
asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Robert glared at Charles,
but Charles paid no attention and kept right on talking.
Charles towered over Hope
as he said, “Even if the King and His Son existed, do you really think they
would have anything to do with the likes of you? You was meant to die the night
you was born. The only reason Ms. Lila didn’t put you in the River that night
is because GG told her you would sew and make her lots of money. And now you
got nothin’, so you ain’t worth nothin’. You are goin’ to the River of…”
Hope couldn’t bear to hear
any more, so she turned and ran, the words ringing in her ears as she went, “You
ain’t worth nothin’. You was meant to
die. You are goin’ to the River Death.” Over and over again the words pounded
through her thoughts and straight to her heart. She found herself at the
brook’s edge and fell face down in the grass, burying her face in the soft
blades. She wept the tears of a frightened child. She wasn’t good enough to be
friends with the Son of the King. The only place she belonged was the River of
Death, like Charles said.
Thunder rumbled overhead
and the wind whispered through the leaves.
“Hope.”
Were the leaves whispering
her name? Was she dreaming? She raised her head just as Prince of Peace sat
down next to her on the grass. Thunder rumbled, reverberating through the woods
as He sat quietly waiting for her to speak.
She sat up and pretended to
watch the water playing over the pebbles in the brook, but He knew she was
avoiding His gaze. He gently turned her face toward Him, her eyes were filled
with a great sadness and she still averted her gaze off to the side, not
looking into His eyes. She was acutely aware of her inability to make herself
“good enough” to even be in His presence, let alone speak with Him as she had
before—as a friend. As she sat quietly, she was certain she could hear the roar
of the River of Death from just over the hill.
His voice interrupted her
thoughts. “Do you really think you are worth nothing? Do you think I would
journey so far, and leave behind my home; my Father, my crown, if you were of
no worth to my Father or to me?”
She stole a sideways glance
and they were quiet for a moment before He continued.
“There is nothing you can
do, or give or sew, that will ever make you good enough. There’s no need for
you to even concern yourself with trying to be good enough. I’ve done the work
for you.”
“But the River of Death,”
she managed to whisper as another roll of thunder rumbled across the sky.
“Listen to me, Hope. It is
true that every one born is subject to the River of Death. I took death’s
penalty on my own body. Because of what I did, you can know me.”
Hope looked at Him and saw
scars on His face, arms, hands and feet. Why had she not noticed them before
now? It was as though she was seeing Him with new eyes. She reached out and
lightly touched the scar on His arm.
“Why would you do that?”
He smiled and brushed a
tear from her cheek as He said, “You are precious to me.”
Hope glanced at the sky
overhead just as the first raindrops began to fall. She looked over at Him, but
He was gone. In the place where He had been sitting was a folded paper.
Hope looked around and then
carefully picked up the folded piece of paper. It was heavy linen paper with
her name written on the outside and a wax seal was on the folded seam. She
carefully broke the seal, unfolded it to find the page was filled with writing.
Hope’s shoulders sank. GG had taught her to read her name, but that was all. She
could not read the letter. The rain fell more steadily now as she stood,
tenderly tucking the paper against her body in an effort to protect it from the
rain. She began walking, and then running all the way back to Stone House. GG
would read it to her.
She spotted GG coming out
of the hen house with a basket of eggs. She stopped when she saw Hope running
toward her.
“Why Hope. What on earth?”
GG said; her eyes big question marks.
Hope held out the paper and
explained how the Kings Son had left it on the grass at the edge of the wood,
by the brook.
GG took the folded linen
paper from Hope’s hand and they headed into Stone House and up the stairs to
GG’s room. She turned the beautiful linen paper over in her hand and with a
smile said, “Hope, this is indeed special. I recognize the King’s seal. This
letter is from the King’s Son and it’s addressed to you.”
Hope’s eyes were wide with
wonder as GG sat down in the overstuffed chair in the corner and slowly
unfolded the paper. Hope sat down on the footstool and rested her hands on GG’s
knees as she waited for GG to begin reading.
GG’s eyes shone as she
began to read. It seemed to these two precious ones that they were about to enjoy
a feast of another kind: a feast of words penned by the King’s Son to one of His
beloved.
Dear Hope,
I know all that has
happened since we first met at the brook. Things are very difficult for you
because you dared speak of me in certain circles. I know it is painful to be so
despised for no other reason than you know me. Take heart for they hated me
before they hated you.
While you were abandoned, I
will never abandon you. Stone House is not your true home. One day when my Father,
the King, gives the word, I shall come for you and take you to my home. My Father’s
estate is a forever kind of home. A home where fear is not allowed to enter and
where joy flows like the brook you know so well. You will no longer wear the
ill-fitting garments of Stone House. You will be adorned as is fitting for a
daughter of the most-high King.
From this moment when asked
who you are and to whom you belong, you shall no longer say that you belong to
no one. Nor shall you say you are worthless, for you belong to the household of
the King. You are mine and all I have is yours.
Trust in the words I have
written for they are true indeed. When the day seems dark as night, and the
River of Death seems to roar and drowned out the sound of my voice, remember I
am coming for you soon.
Until that day,
Prince of Peace
Hope sat very still. She
was afraid any movement would find her waking and the letter only a dream.
Sensing Hope’s apprehension, GG pulled the small girl into her arms and
whispered soft and low, “Hope, you can trust the Son. His word is sure. All He
has done for you—for us—cannot be undone. Remember, one of His names is Strong
Tower and all who run to Him are saved. As Hope listened she knew GG’s words
were true. The Son’s words seemed to rise up off the paper and become engraved
on her heart—written there by the Son Himself. She fell asleep that night with
the letter tucked beneath her pillow.
Sometime in the night Hope
sat up, startled as thunder crashed, rattling the old house. Rain beat against
the window as lightning lit up the darkness. What was that? Hope clutched the
blanket as she strained to make out something hiding in the darkness. The
lightning flashed again and she caught her breath. It was Ms. Lila. Hope thrust her hand under her pillow.
“Looking for this?”
There was no need for Hope
to strain to see through the darkness as Ms. Lila had moved next to the bed.
Hope could feel the woman’s breath against her skin.
“I’m going to destroy you,”
Her words came out in a raspy whisper that sent shivers of fear up Hope’s
spine.
A huge gust of wind tore at
the house and a loud crack followed by a deafening crash and breaking glass as
a tree branch tore through the bedroom window sending shards of glass and wood
cascading across the room. Ms. Lila had fallen to the floor, momentarily
stunned, as Hope bolted across the room, out the door and down the stairs. She
reached the first floor and stood breathless as she tried to hear above the
noise of the storm. Movement caught her eye and she knew Ms. Lila was coming.
Coming for her. Coming to destroy her.
Hope ran to the foyer and
opened the heavy front door as wind tore at her pajamas and rain stung her
face. She stood there for a moment but could hear footsteps closing in from
behind so she dashed out into the night—into the storm.
Hope’s legs felt heavy as
she ran against the wind with the destroyer on her heels and then she heard a
sound that filled her with terror. The noise grew ever louder and then through
the darkness she saw it.
“You can’t escape the River
of Death.”
“Prince of Peace defeated
it!”
Hope recognized GG’s voice
and as she turned around, she saw GG, William, Charles and Robert running
toward her, the wind tearing at their clothing. GG yelled something but the
roar of the River overflowing its banks seemed to swallow her words and snatch
them away unheard.
William and Robert stood
between Hope and Ms. Lila.
“Hope! Are you hurt?”
William asked as he put his face close to hers in order to be heard above the
roar of the River and the howling wind.
Hope was shaking her head
no just as Charles yelled for them to get out of the way. Ms. Lila was running
toward them with something heavy in her hands, which she was waving through the
air. Hope felt as though her feet were frozen to the ground. William pushed her
out of the way as she went sprawling headlong into a muddy bog.
Hope turned in the
direction of the shouting and wiped mud from her eyes with the sleeve of her
soaked pajamas just as Ms. Lila swung the wooden plank catching William,
Charles and Robert by surprise and they all three disappeared over the side and
into the raging River.
Hope crawled to the edge of
the bog, the sides were slippery making it impossible to get her footing. She
grabbed at the sides, but the muddy earth was unable to hold her and she kept
sliding back into the bog. Looking around for something to grab onto she
spotted a root sticking out of the ground. Struggling in that direction, she
writhed her small frame up the side of the bog until she was able to reach the
root with her hand. She grabbed onto it, the sharp edges cutting into her palm,
but she forced herself to hang on and used it to pull herself out.
She stood and willing her
legs to carry her she ran in the direction of the River, stopping less than a
foot from the edge. Peering into the darkness, she could just make out four
figures. Wait a minute. There should only be three. Pulling up her drenched
sleeve, she counted on her fingers as she said each name: William, Charles,
Robert and a fourth. She wiped her eyes, squinting through the rain, sudden
recognition in her expression. She began to shout, hoping they would see Prince
of Peace in the water with them.
Hope knew William had
recognized Prince of Peace as she saw him reach out just as Prince of Peace
grabbed hold of Him. Prince of Peace was saying something and though Hope could
not hear, she knew the words He spoke were true and she could tell William was
greatly comforted. Prince of Peace
looked beyond William. He was calling out. Hope followed His gaze and spotted
Robert and Charles thrashing about frantically in the water.
Hope ran along the
riverbank and began to yell at the two boys to grab onto Prince of Peace. He
was calling for them. Stretching out His hand.
Robert and Charles were
being swept along. Something caught Robert’s right arm and he was unable to
move it. The pain was great. Through the pain and the swirling current, he knew
he could do nothing to save himself.
“Robert!”
Someone was calling him. He
thought for a moment it might have been Charles, but Charles was too busy
trying to swim toward a fallen tree being swept along in the icy current.
“Come to Me, Robert!”
Turning in the direction of
the voice Robert saw William and the stranger who had recently helped plow the
field at Stone House.
What was the name Hope had
called Him? Prince of Peace. Suddenly all the things that GG had said over the
years about the King and His Son came flooding back and as Robert struggled to
keep his head above the water, he knew deep inside that everything he had been
told was true. GG had called Him by another name too. What was it?
“Strong Tower!” Robert
yelled. But the words seemed to vanish in the watery depths. Yet Prince of
Peace must have heard, for suddenly He was there and had Robert in a firm grasp
and Robert knew He was saved indeed.
Robert and William began
shouting for Charles to call on Strong Tower too.
“He is the only way to be
saved,” Robert shouted.
Charles shook his head.
“No! I don’t believe you and I don’t believe Him.”
Charles had managed to make
it to the fallen tree that seemed to have lodged itself on something below the
surface. It seemed safe enough and Charles felt quite safe and comfortable
putting all his weight on its sturdy trunk.
“Don’t be foolish. That
tree can’t save you. Please. Call on Strong Tower. His words are true. He alone
can save you.”
Charles clung to the tree
all the more and shook his head defiantly. “I won’t let go of this tree. I
trust it. I am sure there is more than one way to be saved.”
Lightning cracked overhead
and the wind rose, causing the current to move ever more quickly and the fallen
tree suddenly shifted and rolled causing Charles to lose his grasp and he and
the tree disappeared in the black depths of death. He was gone.
Hope stared at the place
where only a moment ago Charles had been. Why hadn’t he put his trust in Prince
of Peace? She didn’t understand. Her eyes scanned the River as she searched for
William, Robert and Prince of Peace, but she couldn’t see them. Suddenly she
was knocked to the ground. She turned to see what was happening and watched in
horror as GG and Ms. Lila struggled with the wooden plank.
“I will destroy you!” Ms.
Lila hissed
“I’m not afraid of you. I
put my trust in Strong Tower years ago. His words are true and what He did for
me cannot be undone. Not even by you. Not even by the River of Death!”
GG’s words seemed to make
Ms. Lila even more angry as she bent and shoved the wooden plank against GG’s
body as hard as she could. GG tried to stay on her feet, but the ground was
unstable and fell away and suddenly GG fell backwards. It was as though the
River of Death reached out with icy fingers and pulled her in.
“Oh! GG!”
Hope screamed at the top of
her lungs as she scrambled to the edge of the River, scanning its surface for
any sign of her. Tears stung Hope’s eyes. Life wasn’t possible at Stone House
without Grace. Grace had saved her that stormy night six-years ago. Hope ran
along the riverbank shouting GG’s name until her voice cracked with weariness
and spent emotion. Though she pleaded and cried out GG did not come back. She
was gone from her.
A sharp pain in Hope’s shoulder stole her
breath away momentarily as she tried to gain her bearings. She turned just as
Ms. Lila swung the heavy piece of wood in her direction again. Hope darted out
of the way and the heavy plank sunk into the mud and Lila was unable to free
it.
Ms. Lila’s eyes were filled
with hatred as she moved toward Hope and tried to grab her arm. Instinctively
Hope backed away but the ground beneath her feet gave away and she fell into
the icy water. For a moment Hope’s delicate face was visible in the swirling
current, but then she sank beneath the surface and in an instant all of Hope
disappeared from view.
Hope felt she would sink forever;
caught fast in the current of the River of Death as it swept her along ever
deeper and she was powerless against it. Suddenly something caught hold of her.
Perhaps her clothing had become snagged on a branch. She seemed no longer to be going down, but to
be moving upward.
“Rest in Me, Hope.”
Turning, Hope found herself
looking into familiar eyes. Prince of Peace had hold of her and it seemed to
her the River let her go and within His arms she was hidden—safe from death’s
grasp.
She leaned into Prince of
Peace. He indeed was her Strong Tower. She buried her face in His chest,
knowing she had been powerless to save herself. But He had saved her, just like
He said. His words were true and they took on a deeper meaning now. She rested
fully on this One who was a Strong Tower.
Prince of Peace. Ancient of Days.
It was then they reached
the shore on the other side. He carried her—lifting her out of death’s depths.
He set her down then. Turning,
she stood motionless as two familiar ones ran in her direction. William reached
her first. He laughed as he picked her up and twirled her around. She squealed
with delight to be reunited with the tall boy with freckles on his nose.
“O Hope. It’s everything GG
told us about and more.”
William set her down and
Robert stood looking into her eyes.
“Thank you for standing
your ground when I made fun of you and your belief in Prince of Peace. Because
of you, I believed when I met Him in the raging waters.”
Hope reached out and hugged
Robert tight. “I’m glad,” she whispered. “I’m so glad you are here.”
Grinning ear to ear, the
boys stepped aside and looked further down the shore. Hope followed their gaze
as a familiar figure came into view, walking along the shore in their
direction. Hope recognized her at once, as there was no one like her.
“GG!”
GG hurried toward her and
then took off at a full sprint. Her legs no longer hampered by aging creaky
joints. Hope ran to meet her. What a joyful reunion there on the shore of the
King’s grand estate, Hope was swept up in the sweet embrace of Grace. There was
no more fear. No more pain. No more sadness. No more darkness. No more River of
Death.
Suddenly someone was
singing the most beautiful song Hope had ever heard. Turning she smiled as she
saw Prince of Peace. He was singing.
GG leaned close to Hope and
whispered, “He told me a new name: My Song.”
Hope loved that name very
much as she stood with her friends listening to My Song’s voice. He came and
took Hope’s hand and led her down a lovely garden pathway. Then through the
trees she saw a vast house.
“Whose house is that?” Hope
asked a bit breathless at the sight of the sprawling home.
“That’s My Father’s house.
It has many rooms. Come and see.”
Prince of Peace swung Hope
up onto His shoulders just as some lovely butterflies came fluttering from a
nearby garden. One of them landed on Hope’s arm and she giggled as she was
quite certain the butterfly’s wings made a soft sing-song-sound as it flew
away.
As Prince of Peace climbed
the steps to the house, He began to sing another song. It was about His Father.
The song told of the Everlasting One who never slumbers or sleeps and never
grows weary. Hope rested her chin on the top of His head and smiled as His hair
tickled her cheek as He walked along. They reached the doors and they opened
wide to let them inside. Prince of Peace gently swung Hope to the floor as she
tried to take in the vastness of the entry they were standing in. It had to be
as large as a city and yet it felt cozy all at the same time. Smiling, Prince
of Peace led the way down a corridor with murals on the walls. They came to the
end of the corridor and it opened into one of the most lovely room Hope had
ever seen.
The walls were a color she
couldn’t identify. There were vines and flowers climbing on trellises; their
scent filling the room with their fragrance. She walked over and buried her
face in a bouquet; their petals soft against her cheeks.
“Come, little one. It’s
time to get ready.”
“For what?” Hope asked.
“I want to introduce you to
my Father.”
“The King?”
“Yes. The King.”
Hope was filled with
excitement at the thought. Prince of Peace explained He had some things to do
and would be back soon to take her to meet His Father.
Hope washed and then just
as she was wondering what she was supposed to wear to meet the King she saw a
beautiful dress hanging in a corner by a window. A soft breeze rustled the
draperies and the dress softly swayed under its caress and the dress shimmered
in the light. There was a tag in the collar and she went to see it. She smiled
as she realized she knew what was written on the tag: His Righteousness. She
carefully took the dress off of the hanger and pulled it over her head. It fit
perfectly. She turned and looked in a mirror and caught her breath. Her eyes
shone. Her auburn hair hung in ringlets over her shoulders and dressed in His
Righteousness, she looked like a daughter of the King.
“Are you ready?”
Hope turned to see Prince
of Peace standing in the doorway waiting for her.
Prince of Peace took her
hand as they walked through a lovely garden. A fountain stood in the center but
the water was unlike any water Hope had ever seen. She went to take a closer
look. The water cascaded and appeared to dance. Flowers of every hue surrounded
the fountain. Suddenly, the flowers began to sing, their blossoms raising their
open faces toward the other side of the courtyard. The water began to move and
Hope raised her eyes to Prince Of Peace who smiled.
“Living Water,” He said.
It was then a sound came
from the trees. Startled, Hope looked up at the leafy boughs as they shook and
the branches came together.
“The trees are—are
clapping!”
GG had always said that the
trees clapped for joy when the King came near. Hope turned as movement caught her
eye. The King emerged – the flowers breaking into song, the trees joyfully
clapping and Hope was overcome. Clothed in His Righteousness, Hope knelt and
bowed her head. She was quite certain her heart was going to leap right out of
her chest at any moment. It was then she felt a hand on her head and voice rich
and deep spoke.
“Welcome home, Hope.”
A strong yet gentle hand
lifted her gaze and she found herself looking into the very eyes of love. The
words GG had said to her often flooded her thoughts now. For the Father loved
so much that He gave. He gave His Son.
She looked up at Strong
Tower. His scars seemed more pronounced and as the words washed over her soul
she understood them. She turned her gaze back to the King who had something in
His right hand: a crown. A crown made to fit her head alone. The King bent down
and tenderly placed the crown on Hope’s head. He lingered there looking into
her very soul and then bending down He kissed her cheek. He then whispered a
name that she had not heard.
“Wonderful.”
The King lifted Hope to her
feet as the trees clapped for joy and the flowers sang and the Living Water danced
and Hope smiled—joy in her heart as she stood face-to-face with the King and
His Son, clothed in His Righteousness; a crown upon her head.
An Original Conversations
at the Well
By Diana Morgan © Copyright
August 25, 2013
Posts
